Sleepless in Suburbia
by lucayathegood
Summary: /or/ things you said when you thought i was sleeping. thundercest.


**_A.N I'm so sorry I haven't updated Words Synonymous With Danger. I've been working on videos and other fics and school is hard, honestly. I hope you guys like this one! It's dedicated to the lovely Polixena on tumblr. She wrote me the nicest message and inspired this fic, requesting the prompt: "Things You Said When You Thought I Was Sleeping." Of course, no fic can beat the amazing "Things You Said" Max and Phoebe story by Actual Trash Prince (which I am still obsessed with, btw.) but I hope you like this._ _I also may or may not have incorporated small parts of The Force Awakens and Clueless (if you squint)._**

 ** _"When I can't sleep at night-_**

 _I stare at the empty side of my bed_

 _and wonder about the things_

 _I would tell you,_

 _if you were laying next to me."_

 _A.S_

"You can't do this!" Urgency. There was a sudden and helpless sense of urgency.

"Says who? You are a nobody, Max Thunderman. You know I can take whatever I want." The voice was getting farther and farther away, Max straining desperately to pinpoint its location.

"But you can't take her!" He was running, running and running and running until he thought his legs might give out. There was a light in the distance. A small light, but it was still there, and he wouldn't stop until he reached it. He had to reach it.

"Phoebe? Phoebe!" Could she hear him? He couldn't hear himself; it was doubtful she would. He had to keep trying, though. He had to keep looking. He was surrounded on all sides in a darkness he was hopeless of escaping.

"Max!" Phoebe? Was that her? Her voice was weak, but still there. He was getting closer, he was sure of it.

"Phoebe, where are you? I'm coming!" His voice was strained, like hers, from the running that felt as thought it went on for countless hours. The search that had appeared to have no end.

There was no reply, though from his seemingly fading auditory sense or Phoebe's lack of voice, he couldn't be sure.

It was hours (or mere minutes) before he spotted what could only be identified as a limp body on the paved ground. But it was dark. It was still extremely dark and he could be wrong. Upon taking the last steps to the scene, the body was lying nearly lifeless in a sticky pool of blood. Oh, God. He wasn't wrong.

He tried to move his feet, but they were now far too heavy to lift. He fell instead, kneeling before his sister, and his knees were covered in the blood he could now see ran from her stomach. What had Dark Mayhem done to her? What had he done to his sister?

"Phoebe!" He took her hand - the one not shielding her stomach from outside forces that had already done enough damage - and held it with his. "Phoebe, can you hear me?"

He eyes fluttered open, however slightly. "Max, I-" He could tell how hard it was for her. How hard it must be to utter a single word.

"No, no Phoebe. You don't have to speak." A tear escaped his eyes, and he clutched her hand tighter in an attempt to reassure her of a safety he wasn't sure he could provide her. How on God's earth had he allowed this to happen to her?

"I'll fix this. You'll be okay, I promise."

Her hand clutched his - with less energy and strength, of course, but the intent just the same.

"No, Max. I-I...have to tell..." She took a shaky breath. He wished more than anything that she wouldn't waste the last bit of energy she had left on a conversation with the shitty brother who had let this happen to her. "I'm sorry, Max." Her eyes were worn, but he knew when she was close to tears.

"What could you possibly have to be sorry for? You didn't do anything, Phoebe. That bastard did. I did. I never should have trusted him, okay, Phoebe? I'm sorry." Why did she have to do this? He didn't need an apology from someone who had absolutely no reason to apologize.

"And...I should have. n-n-never given up on you, Max." What was she talking about? "I-It's my fault you stayed a villain." Another breath. "I knew it wasn't who you truly were, but I stopped t-trying to convince you. And, look," she added with a breathy laugh that was far more sad than it was funny, "it cost me my life."

 _Oh._

"No, Phoebe. No, that's not true." He shook his head repeatedly. "Please don't say that. It never had anything to do with you!" He said it knowing all to well that he was lying to the both of them.

"Then... what did you expect was going to happen?" She whispered it with a small smile that he knew was just for his benefit. "What do you think the _supervillain_ title does and does not imply?" Her voice was getting quieter, and he had to lower himself further and further until his ear was level with her lips. His spare hand reached around to cup her face, pulling her closer to him.

"I'm sorry, Phoebe. I'm so, so sorry. This is all my fault! All my fault.." His words muffled against her neck, and she struggled to wrap an arm around him. His heart broke for the girl who felt guilty for her own demise.

He pressed his lips to her neck in a sudden burst of passion and desperation (and _love_ and _love_ and _love_ ), anything to stop the tears flowing freely from their eyes.

"I'm sorry." He kissed her once. "I'm sorry," another kiss planted. "I'm sorry," his lips parted with a shuttering breath against her slowing pulse. His lips remained, breath hot against her neck until he felt her no more. She was still against his arms, and he knew that he had lost her.

His body racked with sobs, shaking his arms around her still body, a body that would never move again.

"Phoebe," he whispered through tears. "Please forgive me, please. I'm sorry," he repeated the phrase like a broken record, _utterly_ broken. His eyes shut forcefully, not ready to look up at the girl who would never do the same. What had he done?

He collapsed suddenly, head dropping to the ground with force. When his eyes reopened in surprise, she was gone.

His eyes searched the area rapidly, but the small light he'd had before gone all at once.

"Phoebe?" He called out to no one; He knew she wasn't there. But where was she?

"Phoebe?" The space around him moved; It was pitch black and he couldn't see a thing, but it spun and it spun and he felt as though he was going to throw up. What the hell was happening?

 _"It's my fault you stayed a villain.."_

 _"You know I can take whatever I want.."_

The voices came out of nowhere. They were booming and they echoed and they made his head pound and he hated this and WHAT WAS GOING ON?

"Hello? Hello?" Max struggled to make sense of anything, his heart beating fast inside his chest.

 _"I'm sorry, Max..."_ Phoebe?

"Phoebe?" He spun in circles, tripping on surroundings he could not see and losing his mind over voices he did not want to hear.

"Phoebe?!"

* * *

He woke with a start. Each breath he took jolted his body and ran through him. Sweat soaked the sheets beneath him, and he had to pull them off to escape the heart emitting from him.

 _Ohmygod_.

He dreamt about her often, admittedly, but those dreams were nothing like this. No, never like this. _This_ was a nightmare. He knew dreams had no real way of predicting the future, but a small part of him couldn't help but wonder if it truly meant something. If maybe God, the universe, _Phoebe_ , was trying to tell him something he hadn't yet realized.

Slowly, and with limbs exhausted by _sleep_ , of all things, he crept up two flights of stairs. When he reached his destination, he found her sleeping. She was laying on her back, reminding Max eerily of the sight his latest nightmare had etched forever into his brain. He shook the thought away, taking steps closer to where she was on her bed. The only source of light in the room came from the the moon, pouring in through the window, but he managed to make it without a lamp or over-headlight.

He hesitated slightly, but pushed a hand out, touching her shoulder and whispering "Phoebe" in an attempt to wake her up. He wasn't quite sure why he felt it necessary, but he needed to talk to her. Now, if possible.

Several seconds passed before he tried again. She stirred, but did not wake from her current state of unconsciousness. Why wasn't she waking? What was wrong? He forced himself to take two deep breaths, reminding himself that it was just a dream.

Figuring no further attempt at waking his sister would prove successful, he slid to the floor. His legs crossed before him, back against her side of the bed.

"Hey, Phoebe," he started awkwardly, eyes roaming the room before landing on the window across from him. He wasn't sure how to begin these types of things, honestly. But if Phoebe couldn't hear what he had to say, at least he was saying it. He needed to get these thoughts out of his mind and off of his chest as quickly as possible.

"So, um, I had this dream, and, well, um.." he played with his hands, fidgeting. "You sort of, like, died?" Max winced, glad she wasn't awake to hear this. Who wants to hear that their brother dreamt in great detail of their untimely death?

"And it kind of, like, hurt. _Me_ , I mean. Of course it hurt you, you were murdered." Why did he say that? That was not the right thing to say. Shit, he was making a mess of something that probably wasn't even a big deal.

"Sorry. It's just that it really, um, it really scared me. For you. I don't want you to die." That was obvious, though. Why would she think the opposite? "I don't want to lose you. In the life-or-death sense as well as, like, the emotional sense, I guess." He scratched the back of his head, feeling uncomfortable.

The room became quiet without his voice to fill it, only their respective breathing audible. Max stared out the window a long time, elbows on his knees. He lost track of time in the stars, searching for answers to questions he hadn't understood even existed until recently. Finally, he took a deep breath.

"I know that you try, Phoebe. I know that. I know that you and Mom and Dad and everyone around me are constantly telling me to snap out of my villain phase." His eyes followed a bird outside, perched quietly on a limb attached to an outside tree. "But I know that of everyone, you're the one who has always seen the good in me. You believe I'm capable of being a hero, even when I shoot you down. And you've never stopped, have you? You've never stopped believing in me."

There was another pause. This time, however, his eyes closed. He leaned his head back against her bed, thinking. Why was this so hard? What else was there to tell her? What else was he hiding from her (and himself)?

"I feel like, no. Actually, I _know_ that I've never thanked you for it. I'm a jerk. I'm the biggest ass but you try, and you care, and that's more than most people are willing to do. So thank you." His heartbeat quickened slightly, sure of his words but not of her reaction were she to really hear them as well.

"I do care about you, Phoebe," he admitted. "So much. And I'm just sick and tired of acting like I don't. I don't ever want something to happen to you because of feelings I was never able to admit."

He took a few more breaths, eyes open once more.

"I feel like we're always fighting. And, I think, that's my fault. Because, like, when I'm wasting our time arguing with you," he paused, "I could be telling you that I think about you constantly." Where was this coming from? "How I think about the way you look when you tell me off. How you can make me smile even when I don't want to. The way you're always there for me, and how it feels when you aren't. I think," another breath filled his lungs, "I love you, Phoebe."

It had to be single most embarrassing thing he'd said in his entire life. But he'd be lying if he said that none of it was true. He'd never admit it to her were she anything other than asleep, but it was how he felt, he finally realized. And at least one of them was awake to finally learn the truth. His eyes closed in exhaustion.

He heard the faint chirping of the bird outside the window, fixated on it so that maybe it would take his mind off of what he'd just said.

The bed above him squeaked quietly, though he was too concentrated on the bird to hear it. Before he could open his eyes, the weight of the bed had shifted and a girl sat next to him. He felt the warmness of lips pressed against his cheek.

"Phoebe?" He turned to face her, elbows falling from their place on his knees. "I thought you were asleep.." Oh no, how much had she heard?

"I heard what you said," she told him, seemingly reading his mind. A faint smile appeared on her lips. "I never knew you felt that way," her face scrunched slightly.

He raised an eyebrow in return. "Oh, you thought I was being serious?" He improvised, not fooling either of them. "In your dreams, dweebs," He forced a laugh, "No, seriously, you were probably asleep. We should both get back to bed, okay?" But neither made any move to.

What was once a faint smile grew rapidly in to a knowing grin. "I can't believe it." She shook her head, looking away.

He followed her eyes, raising the other eyebrow as well. "Believe _what_?"

She giggled. _Phoebe doesn't giggle_ , Max thought. _But she looks nice when she does_. And, somehow, that thought didn't feel weird to him. "Oh, nothing." Her grin grew wider. "Just the fact that you _lov-_ " His hand was covering her mouth before she could finish the sentence.

" _Max_!" Phoebe said, voice muffled behind his hand. She slapped it away. He shoved back, playfully. She mimicked his actions, and when she reached for him, he grabbed her arm, pulling her to him. His lips touched hers in a spontaneous moment.

He pulled away seconds later, afraid to look in to her eyes. Why had he done that? (He thinks he knows why. Hell, hadn't he just admitted why mere minutes earlier?)

"Phoebe, I-" But her hand was covering his mouth, eyes bright. "I love you, too." ( _Phoebe had the dreams, too._ )

They were kissing as quickly as she'd pulled her hand away. They were kisses filled with passion and fear and _love_. Thoughts once burdened with guilt and super-villains and unbearable losses had now vanished, replaced with an overwhelming sense of happiness.

And maybe they could finally get some sleep.


End file.
